


Softer than the storms around

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, M/M, basically just fluff because i was cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: For a moment, as he scanned the area, his heart squeezed. Then, he caught sight of the small, very small, sapling. Despite the weather and conditions, the acorn he’d buried in the midst of the battle had sprouted.Perhaps the hobbit found himself disappointed when it did. He’d meant it for his garden, after all. Instead, it would be here, in the middle of a ruined city of Men.At least, he thought as he carefully checked it, it would be close to Erebor. Some part of him would be there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im trying to dip my toes back into writing more regularly (we'll see how that goes)
> 
> enjoy!

Icy fingers crept their way up Bilbo’s legs. As it turned out, the winters further east were colder. Or at least, up in the mountains. He couldn't tell but there was no drastic difference between Dale and Erebor. Whatever it was, the small hobbit greatly disliked it. 

It left a bad taste in his mouth, the cold. 

Too many bad memories lingered as he tucked his fingers into his palms. The gloves Bofur had lent him were hardly protective for his fingers. But they did a good job of warming his hands. They were running on non-existent resources, he could hardly ask for more than he had already been spared.

Perhaps that was part of the reason he had also been working for weeks in Dale, instead of taking up space in the mountain. 

At least among men, he hardly made a difference. With dwarves, Bilbo took up more noticeable space. He was only a little smaller than them. Besides, he could not bear himself to be around the dwarves of the Iron Hills. They had not witnessed his banishment but word must have spread since the end of the battle. 

He’d done his best to keep out of sight of most of the dwarves. It was for the best. 

The men were fairly hospitable. Most of them hardly noticed him underfoot. Those who did always thought him a child. If Bilbo were a different hobbit, he might not have minded being written off as a child and out of work. To him, however, if he could lend a hand with anything he would. Unfortunately, all but Bard thought him a child. 

Speaking of, Bilbo mused to himself as the man approached. The hobbit had perched himself on an outcropping of rocks. From here, he could see not only Dale, but the entrance into Erebor in the distance. 

“Master Baggins,” Bard greeted. “It is going to be dark soon. Are you sure you don’t wish to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” he said and slid off the rock. 

Bard gave him a rather sad look. He gazed at the mountain before back to the hobbit. 

“I don’t understand why you continue to go there. Were you not banished?”

“I have friends there,” he said simply, slipping his hand into his pocket. The ring touched briefly against his fingers. “Thorin was not in his right mind, as I told you before. If you would excuse me.”

Bilbo hurried down the hill, for the path that led out of Dale. He’d only seen a glimpse of Bard nodding. The man, at least, did not attempt to stop him. He could be thankful for that. There were a few men and women lingering in the evening light. Most would work until they could hardly see what they were doing. It was an effort that they needed on their side. Dain had been nice enough to lend his soldiers, or some of them, for help. 

Those dwarves had left for the mountain already. He usually waited until they were gone. 

He didn’t know how the dwarf regarded him, nor his soldiers, and Bilbo didn’t find himself keen on figuring it out. 

As he rounded the corner, passing through ruined courtyards, he came to a short stop. For a moment, as he scanned the area, his heart squeezed. Then, he caught sight of the small, very small, sapling. Despite the weather and conditions, the acorn he’d buried in the midst of the battle had sprouted. 

Perhaps the hobbit found himself disappointed when it did. He’d meant it for his garden, after all. Instead, it would be here, in the middle of a ruined city of Men. 

At least, he thought as he carefully checked it, it would be close to Erebor. Some part of him would be there. 

Then he hurried back onto the path towards Erebor. Despite his annoyance, Bard had been right. The days were short, night came sooner than he liked. Not to mention, the trek into Erebor could take longer than he had. It wasn’t too dangerous now, but there patrols of dwarves at night, which could also catch him. 

He’d hopefully not have to deal with this much longer, but he moved along at a faster pace. As the sun set, the sky lighting up in a beautiful array of colors, he slipped the ring on. His time was nearly perfect at this point, as the guards began changing a moment after he stopped outside the entrance into Erebor. In the changing of the guard, the gates into Erebor were opened briefly. 

Certainly, no one could simply walk through.

Unless you were quite light footed and invisible. 

Bilbo tip-toed easily past the guards and into the mountain. It spread out before him, as his eyes adjusted from sunlight to the soft green light. The light had surprised him, the first time he’d set foot in this bit of the Dwarven city. Thorin had explained the specifics behind it, but all he came to understand was that the gemstones within the rock gave off the light. 

It was dulled under the influence of the ring. He ignored the pang in his heart and let his feet take him down the familiar path. The way he went avoided the busier areas of Erebor. Even though he could slip easily by any dwarf, he didn’t like coming across them. It felt odd. 

If he was on time… 

Bilbo beamed as he watched Oin open the door into the King’s suite. It always stayed open a moment, which was long enough for a quick-footed hobbit. He followed Oin quietly into the bedroom. As the old dwarf went about his usual tasks, Bilbo inspected the room. 

Nothing had changed from the previous night. The tea kettle sat, washed, on the small table that sat against one of the walls, along with the two small cups. He could see the tin, though he thought it might have been moved from where he had left it. He hoped the stock had not gone down significantly. 

He could not sneak out more. 

Bilbo might have sighed, but he waited patiently for Oin to finish. Thorin looked slightly irritated. He’d been made to sit up, as the older dwarf changed the bandages wound around his chest. It wasn’t a quiet affair, but the dwarves spoke in Khuzdul. 

There was no reason for them not to, after all, it was their native tongue. 

As Oin stepped away, looking for a salve perhaps, Bilbo took in the wound on Thorin’s chest. It had been a lucky thing, in the end. Azog had narrowly missed a vital spot, and Bilbo had been there moments after the orc’s death. He might have bled out, if the hobbit had not been quick enough. 

Unfortunately, the dwarf king had then been confined to what could be months of bedrest. He hadn’t been pleased. The reconstruction and restoration of Erebor moved along without him. No one would listen to him, either, which had left Bilbo in an odd position. 

He could have attempted an appeal against Thorin, against the gold sickness, but it hardly seemed worth the trouble. When things were better, when the dwarf could walk about Erebor freely, then Bilbo would bring it attention. 

For now, he snuck about much like he’d been hired to. 

Oin finished treating Thorin, one last wrap of bandage back around his chest. Before he left, Oin helped Thorin into a loose tunic. Bilbo watched him leave, the door shutting quietly. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The dwarf kept throwing looks about the room, the longer the time passed by. Soon, his expression dimmed and he looked down at his hands instead.  

Bilbo hurried off, quietly and lightly, to the door. For his luck, there was a quiet lock on the door as well. He locked the door before turning around, removing the ring in a flourishing movement. That did not make any noise, either, though he always wished it did. Instead, he cleared his throat. 

The dwarf looked up, his face brightening at the sight of the hobbit. 

“Bilbo,” he breathed. 

“Tea?” Bilbo asked, in lieu of anything else. He didn’t wait for an affirmation. 

Thorin always wanted the tea. As he made the tea, Bilbo checked the supply. It had not diminished any since he had last used it. Someone had just been looking about then. These were not technically his, after all, so he could not be upset. 

He stoked the fire, standing near to it. Despite all the work they had been doing, the mountain continued on being quite cold. Soon enough, the dwarves were supposed to be having the heating system in working order. Until then, they all relied on what they had at their disposal. 

In Thorin’s (and Bilbo’s) case, this was blankets and a fire. It wasn’t very close to the bed, but it warmed the room slightly. Enough, at least, that his toes did not hurt terribly. The blankets did the rest of the work. 

The tea kettle began a sharp whistle and he immediately removed it, eyes flicking to the door. This was the only risky bit of his nights in Erebor. If anyone heard the kettle, they would be suspicious. Thorin could not get up and make tea himself. After a moment passed, Bilbo relaxed and padded over to fill the two cups. He added a few extra ingredients to Thorin’s before then padding over to the bed. 

Thorin shifted slightly, his back pressing firmly against the pillows. He had a warm smile on his face. 

“Scooch over,” demanded Bilbo, waiting as the dwarf slowly did so. 

Bilbo had decided from the beginning he would not baby the king. He wouldn’t get better if he didn’t try to do anything at all. The hobbit never pushed him too hard, but he knew Thorin could at least move over in the bed, as well as hold his own cup. Any day he could be cleared to move and it wouldn’t do for the dwarf to be lacking. 

After he’d made sufficient room for Bilbo, the hobbit clambered carefully onto the bed. Even though it was built for dwarrows, it sat a little high for him. 

Thorin gratefully took the cup, drinking his tea with a pleased expression. 

“There we are,” Bilbo said, pressing firmly to his side. Thorin gazed at him for a moment. “What?”

“Why do you do this?”

“Pardon?” Bilbo frowned, looking down into his tea. He figured he knew exactly what the dwarf meant. 

“I had…” Thorin made a vague motion with his free hand. “Yet, you come back every night. You sneak past all the guards and dwarrows, even past Oin. To make me tea?”

_ Ah. _

Bilbo swirled his own tea, looking at the fire across the room. 

“You seem to be neglecting the fact that I have a warm bed for the night, and my own tea, too.” He took a careful sip. “Besides, I know you. Thorin Oakenshield did not say that to me.” 

He left it at that, though he could feel the dwarf beside him thinking what he had said over. This was the first time Thorin had ever ventured to ask about all of it. All the previous nights, they had carried on conversations about the restorations and reconstructions of Erebor and Dale. Bilbo enjoyed those conversations, as it have him a chance to hear about the rest of the Company. Thorin seemed happy to hear about how Dale was coming along, how Bilbo helped out where he could. 

Bilbo turned his head back from the fire and caught Thorin staring sadly at him. 

“I wish you would stay.”

“I am staying,” Bilbo said, drawing his eyebrows together. 

“You know that is not what I mean,” replied Thorin, drinking his tea for a long moment. “Any of the Company would vouch for you. My cousin is not so hard-headed that he would not recognize my actions were influenced negatively, that my Company cares greatly for me, and for you.”

His expression softened. 

“As I do. Bilbo, I do not wish for you to linger between Dale and Erebor. You are more than welcome to stay in Erebor, here, with me, with the company,” as Thorin spoke, Bilbo could hear the nervous edge to his words. “But if this is not what you want… I know that the Men of Dale are good, at least Bard is.” 

“Oh,” Bilbo sighed and set his cup down on the side table, heavily. “You daft dwarf. Of course I want to be here.”

The smile that danced across Thorin’s lips sent Bilbo’s heart thundering loudly in his chest. He tried to quell it, his eyes back to the fire as it flickered and wavered. 

“There is always a place for you here, Bilbo. When I am able to leave this bed, I will be certain to affirm that. Erebor will always be a home for you.”

Bilbo caught the slight look of panic on Thorin’s face before it smoothed over. He hadn’t meant to say that, or at least in those words. 

“I’m alright with this,” he said. “Dale needs help.” 

“But the sneaking…” Thorin started to protest. 

“Don’t worry about it, please, Thorin.” Bilbo sighed and touched the dwarf’s free hand. It warmed him, spreading up from his fingertips. Thorin’s hand easily covered his. Their eyes met and Bilbo turned his gaze away after a moment. 

“You make this exceptionally hard,” Thorin remarked, pressing his forehead to the side of Bilbo’s. Bilbo felt a thrill in his stomach. 

He need only turn his head, just so… The movement did not startle the dwarf into moving away but his eyes widened in surprise. Bilbo had never done it before. He’d always, always let Thorin lean against him and pondered what  _ this _ was. 

Their lips met softly, gently, a firm and brief press together. Bilbo’s eyes closed for the briefest of moments. He had hardly dreamed of kissing Thorin, but it felt as though this had been something he’d been aching for. 

When he opened his eyes again, he found the dwarf staring at him. The expression on his face was indescribable, impossible for Bilbo to decipher, but the way Thorin looked at him was so soft. 

“Perhaps not so hard?” ventured Bilbo. 

Thorin’s face bloomed into a wide smile. The chuckle that left his lips had Bilbo’s inside warm. It made him forget the winter chill, at least for a moment. 

He fell back against the pillows, attempting to find a position where he might share more kisses without putting strain on either of them. He dared not climb into Thorin’s lap, lest he upset the wound on his chest. Thorin could hardly move enough to accommodate any other positioning. In the end, it wasn’t so uncomfortable for them to sit the way they were. 

Maybe it was his fault, in the end. Bilbo always kept a careful eye on time and he never slept deeply enough to not be aware of how long it had been. 

He startled awake, his face buried awkwardly under Thorin’s arm. The dwarf had fallen asleep upright, which would not be good for his back. That was the least of Bilbo’s concerns in the moment, though. As he became more aware of himself and the room, the hobbit found himself staring back at a dwarf he did not recognize. 

The dwarf blinked owlishly, then looked around the room in confusion before taking a step back. They said something in Khuzdul, not loud enough to wake Thorin (who slept like the dead), before running out of the room. 

Bilbo cursed. 

He could leave, sneak out before the dwarf came back. Then again…

The hobbit shifted, mindful of Thorin’s arm wrapped securely around him. If he moved enough, that would likely wake the dwarf king. 

Perhaps, it was time. He’d long made peace with Thorin. After the previous night, he did not feel like he wanted to leave with no goodbye again. 

Bilbo carefully sat up, moving Thorin’s arm back into a comfortable position. As he lay his hand against the bicep, the dwarf stirred awake. He stared at Bilbo for a long time, blinking several times before his mouth opened in surprise. 

“You are here…” He reached up, cupping Bilbo’s cheek. 

“Good morning to you too,” Bilbo said, a little snidely. Thorin’s face lightened more. “I’m afraid we’ve been found out.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes flicking to the open door, “one of Dain’s?”

“I think so. I didn’t recognize them.” 

“Well, I hope they bring a member of the Company. I’m not sure I can deal with my cousin this early,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.

“But you think you can deal with a member of the Company?” Bilbo chuckled a little, and at Thorin’s curious look, “if you think that they will not immediately begin teasing, I should think we travelled with completely different dwarves.”

Thorin chuckled at that, his hand moving to Bilbo’s shoulder and then wrapping around his waist. Before the hobbit could protest, he found himself pulled gracelessly into the dwarf’s lap. He could feel the laughter in Thorin’s belly, the sound something he never thought he would treasure hearing. It echoed through the room, out into the hall, and Bilbo imagined, throughout Erebor. 


End file.
